Natural Obsessions
by girl in the glen
Summary: This is a paradox story, written for the Halloween Challenge on MFU Scrapbook.


Illya Kuryakin was irritable, and he admitted it to himself if not to the others in the room. Still, there was something in the woman's eyes other than the obvious flame image.

"Illya, you can't always just dismiss the possibility of something, ummm… supernatural." April Dancer had hesitated to use the word, partly because she thought if Illya rolled his eyes again they might permanently dislodge from their moorings.

"Right mate, there's more out there than we can grasp. I mean, look at what THRUSH comes up with, they're mad as hatters with the gobbledygook to go with it. Sometimes it's downright spooky." Mark Slate was looking for agreement as his gaze went around the room.

Napoleon finally spoke up, having heard the comments from his fellow agents. It would be very like THRUSH to concoct a silly scenario where people had orange flames in their corneas, and by all means the introduction of the new science of contact lenses would make it possible, at least theoretically.

Illya took another look at the photograph, remembering how he felt when the woman locked eyes with his. Thinking back he recognized something physical in his reaction, as though the flames were real and the heat they cast had somehow affected him. In the moment he thought of it his eyes began to burn and tears poured down his face. He couldn't open his eyes, and the obvious pain of it sparked great concern from the others.

"Illya! Oh my god, what's happening to you?" April had him by the shoulders, looking into Illya's face even as he tried to open his eyes. The pain was too great, paralyzing his efforts. All he could do was hope the tears were washing away whatever had assaulted his eyes rather than branding them with the flames he now saw in his blindness.

"Mark, call Medical and get someone down here. April, stand back!' Napoleon had to yell at her and physically pull her away. If whatever was affecting his friend had been communicated by the woman in the picture when she had actually been in their midst, it followed that others could also be affected.

24 Hours Earlier…

Four agents sat around the big table in Alexander Waverly's office. They were his best agents, the top two teams in UNCLE Northwest. Napoleon Solo and Illya Kuryakin sat to his left, April Dancer and Mark Slate to his right. He was about to send them out on a mission that would prove to be either a giant hoax, or a real and dangerous threat to his organization and possibly the world.

Reports had been sent round the Command about a woman whose eyes could cause others to suddenly loose their sight and turn into human torches. It was something akin to spontaneous human combustion, except the catalyst was this strange woman. Two accounts of events were already recorded, with corroboration from witnesses. It was troubling, to say the least, and hysteria had not been ruled out.

"Gentlemen, Miss Dancer… There is a very distressing situation to which I do not have any sort of solution. I fear it is yet another THRUSH gimmick, a way to instill fear and gain control of a population." That was enough to gain the attention of the others in the room. Mister Waverly did not often present a scenario to which he admitted to the possibility of failure in attacking it.

Napoleon spoke for the others when he queried as to the actual events.

"Sir, how is it that this, um… I don't know what to call it, sir. But, how is it instilling fear, exactly?" Waverly touched his pipe gingerly, not ready to light it but searching for the sense of security it lent his emotions.

"This woman…' He pointed to the picture now on the large screen behind his chair.

"Her eyes, as you can see, have flames in them, within the cornea. She appears to be causing, ahh… it has been recorded that spontaneous combustion events have occurred. Human combustion. She is the only thing these events have in common."

Illya rolled his eyes, the subject of spontaneous human combustion had already been explored by him and Napoleon in a previous affair. It was nonsense, all of it.

"Sir, if I may, Mister Solo and I have already been through something similar, and all of it, in spite of pointing to this idea of Spontaneous Human Combustion, turned out to be something entirely different. If you recall, the …" Waverly held up his hand, the obvious sign for Illya to stop talking.

"I am aware, Mister Kuryakin, of what that affair netted in terms of information and disinformation. This situation is different, and the same logic or lack of it will not be helpful in solving our current dilemma.' Waverly turned his attention to Napoleon.

"You are to travel to this place, the Republic of Endosa, and deal with it. The fear within the government is that there might be a plan to gain control of power, and our objective is to make certain it does not happen. Are we clear?" All four of the agents nodded their heads, muttered a 'yes sir' to his question.

"Your plane leaves in an hour, please take all of the files with you and be prepared to hit the ground running, as it were. Dismissed."

The trip was spent pouring over details and comparing observations. Illya was still put out at having been so summarily dismissed from the conversation. He knew this was all a giant hoax, it had to be.

After touching down, the group were met by a contingency of government officials, those who had reached out to the Command for help in stopping this series of awful events. The presence of whatever magic this was had played into people's fears and imaginations, causing the government to fear that perhaps a coup was being planned.

Napoleon and April went with these representatives, hoping to find some clues as to who in the government might be working in collusion with the woman. She must be part of a group, and it was highly likely that someone already near the top might want to skip regular protocols for advancement and simply take over the government. They had to at least look into it.

Illya and Mark set out in search of the woman and whoever might be involved with her. They followed leads and rumors until, after several hours of driving and sleuthing, they found themselves on the steps of an old house, the remains of a sugar plantation from colonial days here on this island nation.

Although not actually fearful of what lay ahead, Mark found himself ready to assume a tactical position at the least provocation. Illya was not only cavalier about the situation, he found the idea of it so ridiculous that he was courting disaster by calling out to whoever might be in this residence.

"Hullooo… Come out, come out wherever you are!" Mark shook his head, wondering why the Russian had taken on such an attitude. Even if there was nothing supernatural about this, at the very least there might be men with guns.

"Slow down there comrade. Let's not provoke anything, or anyone. You take that direction and I'll go this way. Call out if you find something." Illya agreed, still angry at the absurdity of this entire mission, silently seething at having been embarrassed by the Old Man. His Soviet training didn't allow for insubordinate attitudes, but he had become slightly less obliging during his time in America. Now was one of those times.

"I am quite confident that we will find only a woman with contact lenses, nothing more. But, be safe. Humans with guns are much more dangerous." With that, Illya started down the hallway to their right, not looking back as Mark turned to go down the other direction.

When Napoleon and April reached the government offices, they were cleared to begin their investigation. Files, recordings of conversations in the offices of top officials, and more photographs than either of them would have thought possible for such a small country.

The basement was chosen as their workplace, perhaps the only unadorned room in the colonial era building. April dusted off a chair and, with a sigh of resignation, sat down on an ancient chair across from one equally aged where Napoleon was seated. File cabinets rimmed the room, and hoping to find a clue somewhere in the endless drawers, Napoleon started in the A section, while April went directly to the Z drawer.

"You know, the likelihood of finding something useful in here is, well, very unlikely. Personally, I put my money on Mark and Illya finding something before we even get through a quarter of this collection." April would rather have gone with her partner, and wondered now at the way the teams were broken up.

"April my dear, we will try our best, and perhaps this mystery will be less mysterious in the end. I just don't think there's any kind of magic going on. That's just, well… preposterous." Napoleon wasn't superstitious, neither was he unable to grasp that some things were not easily explained. But a woman with flames in her eyes who could control others, could cause the spontaneous combustion events that had been reported, it was too far fetched.

"Oh my gosh…' April dragged out her words as she lifted a tattered piece of paper from the file cabinet.

"Napoleon, you won't believe this."

Illya continued on down the hall, looking inside rooms as he passed until reaching the kitchen. He hesitated at first, he had no desire to be attacked by a madman armed with a chef's knife. The room was entirely white, with only a few items lending color. The floor was a black and white checkerboard, and in the windowsill there was a row of African violets. Just as he was about to enter a voice called out from the opposite end of the hallway, causing Illya to flatten himself against the wall before tearing out in a run towards the sound of a scream.

It seemed to take so long to reach the end of , but running at top speed it was mere seconds from the kitchen doorway to the crumpled heap on the floor of what appeared to be a library.

"Mark?" It wasn't Slate on the floor because he was standing over a smoldering body. In the corner of the room, flanked by book shelves, stood a woman dressed in an orange pareo that she wore like a skirt, with a bright pink tee shirt trimmed in green. Illya thought the look was both garish and, if he were honest, quite sexy.

He shook off the strange attraction for the woman and turned back to Mark for an explanation. The British agent was discomfited from the sight of a burned body, but at Illya's inquiry he shook off the effects and tried to answer.

"I… to be honest, all I saw was …' And then Mark saw it again, the sight of a body consumed by flames that were suddenly extinguished and turned to soot and smoke.

"I can't describe it, Illya. He was on fire, then it was smoke and … and nothing else. Just this." He looked again at the blackened figure on the floor, then to the woman in the corner. As Illya turned to look again at her, he saw the image of the woman in the photograph. She opened her eyes wider and there, undeniably, were the flames that had brought them here.

April and Napoleon were examining a newspaper clipping from thirty years previous. In it was a story detailing three instances of spontaneous human combustion, and the claims by witnesses of having seen a woman with each victim whose eyes were emblazoned with flames. Some accused her of being a demon, others called her a witch. Voodoo was mentioned, as was a myriad of other theories, none of which led to an arrest or any conclusive answers to the mysteries of those deaths.

"What do you think Napoleon? Is this the same woman? How could it be, she'd be in her sixties at least. I just don't understand this." April was worried about how and what… who this woman could be. Napoleon didn't have an answer, except perhaps a mother and daughter. But what was behind all of it? If it were a power grab, why did it happen in the past?

"We only have questions, more than we had before. We need to find out more about the victims. It could be some sort of cult, perhaps.'' In truth, Napoleon didn't have any idea how it all related, or what purpose it served.

April was tired, the trip had been arranged quickly and none of them had gotten any sleep to compensate for being at this for the past twenty-four hours.

"What if there isn't anything tying any of it together. What if this is just weird and we don't have any business being involved here." Napoleon considered that, but something made him want to unravel this mystery.

"Mister Waverly seems to think it requires our attention. There have been attempts to overthrow the government here, and certainly a population that fears this sort of, whatever it is, will be easier to manipulate. Let's see what Illya and Mark uncover and then we'll make a decision."

"You're the boss, I guess that's how we'll do things." April tried to smile, to prove she was fine with all of it. Napoleon knew she didn't mean it, commiserated with her misgivings. Sometimes the only course of action was the one you were directed to follow.

.

Illya stepped towards the woman, causing her to cringe slightly, backing up into the corner as far as she could. Was she afraid of him?

"I am not going to hurt you? Parlez vous anglais?" French was common in this country, perhaps that was the key to getting answers.

"Français s'il vous plaît. Je ne l'ai pas tué, aidez-moi s'il vous plaît."

Illya thought she seemed vulnerable, and in spite of the eyes, he was feeling some sort of empathy for her. Mark caught the look on the Russian's face, understood that she had asked for his help while saying she was innocent.

"Illya, we need to take her in. She was here in the room, and…" Illya nodded, but cut off the rest of whatever Mark was going to say.

"I know. Just let's keep an open mind about it. She doesn't look dangerous, perhaps those are contacts and someone forced her to wear them.' Even as he said the words, Illya knew he didn't sound right, didn't sound like himself. He spoke again to the woman, hoping to avoid any trouble like what they were looking at now.

"Tu seras en sécurité avec nous, viens, allons-y. Je promets que personne ne te fera de mal."

Mark thought it looked as though things might go well from here on out, certainly Illya's promise of safety seemed to have made her willing to accompany them. Something was making the hair on the back of his neck stand up though, and he thought he trusted that more than the woman.

The newspaper clippings and the presence of the woman seemed to create an uncomfortable mood among the four UNCLE agents. The conversation with her was going well, everyone spoke French so could communicate with her easily enough. Her responses to their questions were vague, however, and she had no knowledge of what was in the newspaper articles from thirty years earlier. No one could ignore the flames that were emblazoned on her corneas. They were the same color as the clothing she wore, something that struck April as particularly odd, or intriguing… she wasn't certain which.

"I say we take her back to New York and let Section IV have a crack at her." Mark was over any kind of fascination with the woman, whose name was still as much a mystery as the spontaneous combustion. She was unwilling or unable to give a proper name, simply referring to herself as Mallow.

"We're slated to take off within the hour. Let's get ourselves ready, gather the materials we've gotten and…' Napoleon indicated Mallow. "And get her ready. We have permission to take her out of the country, and Mister Waverly has things in place for when we arrive."

It would be another eight hours in the air, hopefully everyone could get some sleep this time.

Mallow seemed to have become interested in Illya, his movements and conversations. She tried to listen for something in French, responded to questions from the others as they attempted to gain more information about her, about the bodies that were also making the trip back to New York. If this was THRUSH, then Waverly would know about it and get ahead of it. If it was found to be something else… it was unknown territory.

Mallow was being interviewed and examined by UNCLE's Medical team. Blood samples, skin samples… any sample that could be helpful in determining if she was responsible for the victims now being examined in the morgue. Illya had been able to hold the longest conversations with her, and she seemed genuinely interested in helping him. To the others, it seemed as though her interest was selective, that Illya was her primary focus.

At the moment, Kuryakin was not feeling his best. Weariness had set in, and his eyes were irritated. It hadn't gone without thinking of the woman called Mallow, but he didn't believe in whatever nonsense was attributing this bout of fire bombing humans to the lovely woman. And she was, he thought her to be delicate in some way, vulnerable.

Illya Kuryakin was irritable, and he admitted it to himself if not to the others in the room. Still, there was something in the woman's eyes other than the obvious flame image.

"Illya, you can't always just dismiss the possibility of something, ummm… supernatural." April Dancer had hesitated to use the word, partly because she thought if Illya rolled his eyes again they might permanently dislodge from their moorings.

"Right mate, there's more out there than we can grasp. I mean, look at what THRUSH comes up with, they're mad as hatters with the gobbledygook to go with it. Sometimes it's downright spooky." Mark Slate was looking for agreement as his gaze went around the room.

Napoleon finally spoke up, having heard the comments from his fellow agents. It would be very like THRUSH to concoct a silly scenario where people had orange flames in their corneas, and by all means the introduction of the new science of contact lenses would make it possible, at least theoretically.

Illya took another look at the photograph, remembering how he felt when the woman locked eyes with his. Thinking back he recognized something physical in his reaction, as though the flames were real and the heat they cast had somehow affected him. In the moment he thought of it his eyes began to burn and tears poured down his face. He couldn't open his eyes, and the obvious pain of it sparked great concern from the others.

"Illya! Oh my god, what's happening to you?" April had him by the shoulders, looking into Illya's face even as he tried to open his eyes. The pain was too great, paralyzing his efforts. All he could do was hope the tears were washing away whatever had assaulted his eyes rather than branding them with the flames he now saw in his blindness.

"Mark, call Medical and get someone down here. April, stand back!' Napoleon had to yell at her and physically pull her away. If whatever was affecting his friend had been communicated by the woman in the picture when she had actually been in their midst, it followed that others could also be affected.

Illya was in pain as the medics tried to treat him. He couldn't open his eyes, the searing heat was unbearable, so that he had to be given a sedative to release him, at least temporarily, from the effects of whatever was causing it. As the gurney carrying the immobilized agent was rolled onto the elevator, the three remaining agents watched and wondered at the scene they had just watched play out.

"What on earth could have done this? Someone needs to talk to Mallow, find out what she's done to Illya." April was desperate to find an answer, frightened of what might be happening to Kuryakin.

"I think I might have an idea. It's a stretch, and totally unbelievable but…" Napoleon paused, unable to express what he was thinking.

"We've already passed the unbelievable phase of things, so whatever you have… "

"Yeah, let's hear it mate. I don't reckon on being the next one to have flames in my eyes." April and Napoleon looked at Mark with deadpan expressions, both of them ready to delve into strange and dangerous waters if it would help their friend.

Napoleon had commissioned one of the research technicians in Section IV to look into anything having to do with fire, with the word or name of Mallow… any and everything she could find. His request had been made before they left Endosa, and Natalie Bowen had left nothing unexplored.

Alexander Waverly was waiting for his agents to join him, to inform him of the mission and the repercussions thus far. He had a report on Mister Kuryakin's condition and the prognosis for recovery from whatever it was troubling the young man. He acknowledged the arrival of Napoleon, Mark and April with his usual lack of ceremony, cueing them to sit with a wave of his hand while perusing the files in front of him. Napoleon cleared his throat, gaining Waverly's attention and a nod to speak.

"I have something that, in spite of how far fetched it seems, may be the reason for all of this. We need to be prepared to let go of any trace of skepticism if we're to pursue this information as … well, as truth.' Napoleon looked at his two friends, at Waverly, resolute but willing to let Natalie come into the room and share what she had found. With a folder and a slide presentation to illustrate her theory, Natalie proceeded with the most outrageous idea any of them had ever heard.

"Ummm… well, thank you for, umm… ' Natalie took a deep breath, suddenly aware of being in front of the most well known people in the New York Headquarters. She was hopefully going to help them save Kuryakin.

"Okay, the name she gave was the biggest clue to all of this. And without going into too much science…' Waverly cleared his throat, not to intimidate but definitely to speed things up.

"Right. Okay… The name, or word, mallow, refers to a genus of flowering plants that only bloom after a fire. They are germinated and able to proliferate because of the heat of a fire, usually a wildfire.' Natalie could see that she was losing them, which prompted her to light up the screen with photos of wildflowers in the mallow family.

"This is an example of one, although it's found in Northern California primarily, it isn't unknown for them to show up in other regions of the world. The islands around, and including Endosa, do have specimens of this family of flowering plants. They tend to be shades of orange and fuchsia, or hot pink."

It took mere seconds for it to hit, and when it did the room erupted with comments and questions. Incredulity was rampant, but finally the consensus was that, indeed, Mallow needed fire in order to bloom. Somehow the spontaneous combustion events had spawned … her.

"How is this possible? Does she cause the fire? If she needs the fire to bloom… ' April was stumped. She got it, but she didn't get it really because the time frame was all messy. Something, or someone had to start the fires… Or was it truly spontaneous human combustion and that just coincidentally gave Mallow the opportunity to … to be?

Natalie didn't have a real answer for them, only the basis for a theory that at least explained who, or what, Mallow was.

"She's French. How does that figure in?" Mark asked the question of no one in particular, but the fact of the matter was that she had spoken only French, and primarily to Illya.

"Maybe she was cultivated by someone who is French." Napoleon's comment struck a chord with April, who suddenly exclaimed that she knew who was responsible.

"What? How do you know?" Mark was completely in the dark, so how then did his partner have the answer? There were so many questions and too few answers. In the meantime, their friend Illya was in Medical in real danger of losing his eyesight. Or was he?

"There was a name in those clippings. In one of the accounts of the fires, an interviewee named Francois Dubois was quoted as saying the loss of life was tragic, but new life often sprang up in the wake of the dying away of earth's elements. I thought it was odd, certainly not sympathetic to the loss of life." April was looking through the reports, finally locating that particular article.

"The other thing is, after thirty years, the same man was interviewed again after the fire that occurred at the beginning of this latest series of events. He's still alive, and he's still at the scene of a spontaneous combustion event."

"Which leads me to believe that there is nothing spontaneous about it. But where then does Mallow come from?" Napoleon rubbed his face in weariness and frustration. If Mallow is a flower…

"He has seeds. He has seeds, and they need the combustion of human flesh in order to germinate and … " April stopped short of finishing. The entire thing was creepy and wrong. Unbelievable.

"And the fire in her eyes? Why that?" Mark was beginning to grasp all of it, although there were still so many questions. Natalie thought about it, looking at the photos of the flowers and the resemblance to what was in Mallow's corneal image.

"It's not just fire, it's the shape of a flower as well, and a namesake. These flowers are called Fire Followers, and… this may be difficult to accept, but these flowers are fleeting: after waiting for the exact conditions to sprout, they may only bloom for a day or two. They could return next year or the year after, and after that, they will have to wait for the next blaze." Natalie waited for the weight of that to settle in.

"Do you mean to say that she is going to die? Then what about Illya? Why has this affected him?" April felt dangerously close to panic.

"I'm not sure, about either of your questions. In all likelihood, yes, Mallow will, umm.. die. I mean, she isn't really what she appears to be." Mark chimed in.

"Not human, you mean. I can accept that, but what about Illya?"

Just then the pneumatic doors swished open, allowing Doctor Matt Redfern to enter. He was new to the Command, but came with a resume and portfolio worthy of the best medical facilities in the world. April had met him briefly several days earlier, falling instantly under the spell of his very British accent. She seemed destined to be surrounded by men who all sounded like they belonged in a Regency Romance novel.

"Ahh, Doctor Redfern. You have something for us?" Waverly needed something concrete at the moment, this talk of flowers that were conjured up by mad Frenchmen… he felt very weary this evening.

"Yes, good news actually. It was a severe attack, to be sure, but Mister Kuryakin has suffered an allergic reaction to, ummm… well, to your flower guest, Mallow."

Napoleon was relieved and amused. He wasn't sure exactly how to respond, so he just nodded his head knowingly and smiled. Illya would not live this down for quite some time.

"You called her our flower. Do you mean to say that the test results are positive to that?" Finally, something concrete for the Old Man.

"Yes, absolutely. It is the most amazing thing really, I'm quite chuffed at the prospect of examining her remains.' He reacted to the shocked expressions apologetically. He hadn't known they were not yet informed.

"I am sorry, no one sent up the news. Mallow, well she sort of withered up and… I am so sorry. She is quite gone, just all weedy and … well, it's hard to describe actually."

"Do you mean to tell me that after all of this, the creature has simply shriveled up and died? And what of the Frenchman who caused all of this? Mister Solo, have the man identified to the authorities in Endosa as the perpetrator of this series of murders, and confiscate any seeds he may have. This will be the end of it, Mister Solo, make certain of it."

Napoleon took his cue and got up from the table, excusing himself as he set off to manage the situation according to Waverly's instructions. The others remained for a few minutes longer, the situation suddenly no longer their business. The labs would take over the case from here on, with Doctor Redfern overseeing it.

Illya recovered sufficiently to be released the following morning. To his great sadness he learned of the passing of Mallow. He knew it was bizarre, and tragic, and entirely not worthy of emotional distress. But he felt something, a kinship of sorts to the poor little flower that could only bloom under the duress of extreme heat. Perhaps he felt that way at times, although he would never admit it to anyone.

April and Mark, although exhausted and needing sleep, had gone for drinks after clocking out. Everything was entirely too weird, and in the alcohol infused haze of bleary thinking, Mark had one question that he felt deserving of some consideration.

"April luv, don't you think it's odd that, for the sake of argument that is and in light of a flower that was human for a few days… ' April rolled her eyes at the rambling sentence.

"Right, just wait for it, yeah… What do you make of a doctor examining the remains of a flower human girl, and his name is Redfern?"

April burst out laughing before the look on Mark's face made her stop and think about it. Maybe he had something…

"There's no such thing as a red fern. And I've never known anyone back home with that name.'' Mark sat back and smiled. He was a spy, he'd figure it out.

"So, you're saying that our doctor with the pretty but nonexistent name showed up just in time to examine a girl who was a flower… Oh Mark darling, I'm tired. Let's call a cab and go home. Illya is going to be fine, Napoleon is making sure this weird nightmare never happens again and, I'm just exhausted from all of it."

Mark took out his communicator and called the night shift security manager, asking him to arrange for a cab to pick them up. Capping the silver implement, he looked again at his partner and winked.

"You'll see my luv, no Redferns in England. Or anyplace else, I'll wager."

It was more than April could handle on little to no sleep and too many Cosmopolitans. When she finally got into her bed and fell asleep, her dreams were filled with faces and reports, until finally there was the glowing image of red ferns cradling orange and pink flowers, like a father holding his children.


End file.
